But everyone had been correct in their warnings, from Naomi to Hera to Dameon himself.
This was going to take a grueling amount of time.
And that galled Scorio.
Now that he was back on track he wanted immediate advancement. Rapid healing. To maintain the impossible pace he’d manifested before.
Not to sit every day as if in penance, breathing, focusing not on technique but simply on saturating, on being.
Worse was that Ydrielle had left a week ago to fetch House Kraken’s members. To bring them to the Chasm for the final push.
“The plan’s simple,” Dameon had explained the night before over dinner. “For most of you, at any rate. What we’re going to attempt will rile up the fiends, so you’ll all steer clear of the Chasm while we’re below. We’re going to descend with Druanna to the Gold level and she’ll manifest her golem so as to break through to the treasure vault.”
“Why can’t I come?” Jova had asked. “I can clear the way for you easily.”
“I wish. But the Gold mana will overwhelm you and there are threats down there that will challenge even us Dread Blazes. Plus we want Druanna to feel a sense of ownership over this whole process.” Dameon had grinned. “We want her in our corner when it comes to making sure the transaction goes through.”
Jova had nodded reluctantly.
“We shouldn’t be gone long. We’ve done everything we can to clear the way, so our strike should prove surgical. She’ll break in, we’ll fend off the fiends, we’ll recover the artifact, and then get the hell out of there. Simple.”
Scorio hesitated. “What does this artifact do?”
“That’s right!” Dameon winced. “Sorry. You were already working when we had that talk. It’s called the Font. Or was called. It’s a miraculous creation. You know how the floating islands summon Gold mana from the depths? This artifact duplicates that power on a much smaller scale. It can reach deep into the ground and tear free Gold mana on demand.”
“On demand?” Scorio glanced at his friends to check their incredulity. “That’s…”
“Incredibly powerful, yes, and why we’ve spent more than half a year questing for it. It can’t help in Deep Hell, but it’ll make a world of difference for House Kraken in the northern hemisphere.”
Davelos smiled grimly. “Like having their own pet Crucible.”
“No wonder House Kraken’s interested,” said Scorio.
“And willing to pay through the nose.” Dameon’s expression was eminently self-satisfied. “Enough to make a real difference for all of us. We work together, we rise together.”
Now they stood outside the hall, watching as Ydrielle guided The Sloop down from the heavens. She’d lowered the heavy anchor, and Valt took it easily as if it were made of gossamer thread and affixed it to the huge iron loop embedded in the ground.
“It keeps tripping me up,” Leonis murmured. “Just how strong Valt is. He’s supposed to be much stronger than Crush, even. But he looks like a regular man.”
“There’s a lesson there, you know.” Lianshi sighed. “But I won’t bother trying to spell it out for you.”
Everyone had turned out to welcome The Sloop. People stood stiffly, backs straight, expressions tight.
The moment had finally come.
For them, it was the culmination of all their efforts.
For Scorio it was a grim deadline he’d hoped to put off for as long as possible.
The Sloop bobbed and settled. The rope ladder was thrown down and a dozen people descended. Ydrielle and a handful of Manticore Flame Vaults, but everyone stared at Druanna, the Pyre Lady of House Kraken and keeper of the Farmlands.
She wore utilitarian House Kraken’s official robes with their totem animal stitched beautifully across the back, and dropped the last few yards off the rope ladder with casual grace. She exuded calm mastery, her manner at once reserved yet watchful. Her full mane of black hair was braided into a thick rope, and her tawny, golden skin glowed with health. Athletic and strikingly handsome, she seemed preeminent amongst the other Great Souls about her, as if everyone faded slightly into the background in her presence.
Dameon strode forward. “Pyre Lady! An honor. Thank you for coming. I trust your journey was smooth.”
“It was,” said Druanna, inclining her head in recognition of Dameon’s bow. “Pilot Ydrielle is admirably talented.” She gazed about the ramshackle camp. “I’ve not been here in six years. It hasn’t changed.”
Dameon turned as if seeing the buildings for the first time. “It’s functional and meets our needs. Nothing less, nothing more. Allow me to introduce the elite members of our company.”
Each Flame Vault bowed as they were introduced, and Scorio felt a pang of envy that he quickly quelled when Jova was mentioned.
Druanna clearly recognized her; she inclined her head with more respect than she’d shown even Dameon.
Past lives counted.
The Pyre Lady then introduced her own team; she’d come with two Dread Blazes of her own, a dour-faced Mavel, tall and grim, and his opposite, a smiling Tsing Ma, whose face was round and soft and his manner genial.
The Dread Blazes and Pyre Lady retired to the hall for a meal and to confer, leaving the Flame Vaults and their lessers to return to hang about in groups.
“I can’t believe it’s finally happening,” said Juniper in a hushed whisper.
“Finally is right,” said Zala. “As much as I appreciate the mana, I can’t wait to go somewhere new. Anywhere, really.”
“Agreed.” Lianshi peered past Leonis at the hall’s entrance. “With all of Hell just waiting for us, it’s been so frustrating to just squat here in this old camp.”
Scorio bit back his bitter rejoinder.
Leonis had caught Naomi’s expression. “We know, we know what a privilege this is, Naomi. But we can’t hog it for ourselves forever. Did you know a Chimera crew is waiting for us to leave so they can take our place? It’s greedy to remain here this long. Dameon’s had to nearly empty Manticore’s coffers.”
“Only one group can visit the Chasm at a time?” asked Scorio.
“Supposedly.” Leonis shrugged. “Too much activity stirs things up below and makes the whole place dangerous. And there’s just the one shaft. Though I suppose more could be dug. Regardless, it’s tradition to not crowd the place.”
Lianshi shivered. “You only have to look back a century to the last time several crews tried to take advantage of the mana. They all disappeared.”
“Even the ones that were topside?” asked Scorio.
Lianshi pursed her lips and nodded.
“Have you felt it yet?” Leonis’s tone was uncharacteristically hushed. “That sense of being watched while you’re down below?”
Scorio shook his head.
Everyone else looked nervous.
“We all have,” said Zala quietly. “When the feeling grows too strong the Flame Vaults make us leave. Nobody wants to talk about it, and they say it’s just a precaution, but…”
“But I think it’s time to go,” said Juniper with quiet certainty. “We’ve pushed our luck with whatever power lives below. And after this strike? I’d not go back down for all the mana in the world.”
“Sorry, Scorio.” Lianshi reached out to touch his arm. “I wish you could have gotten more time.”
“Me too.” Again he pushed the bitterness down. “But it is what it is.”
“You’ll be drowning in treasures after this,” said Leonis. “Just watch. You’ll be crying for it to stop.”
“Unlikely,” said Scorio, unable to resist a smile. He glanced sidelong to where Jova stood chatting with Valt and another Flame Vault. “I don’t see Jova spending much time with you all anymore.”
Juniper’s expression tightened and Zala looked down.